


forgiveness

by dozmuffinxc



Series: catch me as i fall [8]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Dryad wives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Forgiveness, Gen, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Picnics, post-Story and Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 11:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17120603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dozmuffinxc/pseuds/dozmuffinxc
Summary: In which Sloane and Hurley have visitors, and a certain dwarf gets some things off his chest.





	forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> _"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.” –Lewis B. Smedes_

Sloane woke, as she so often did, with the beginnings of a scream in the back of her throat and the crushing weight of isolation pressing on her chest. For one terrifying moment, she was back in the Gaia Sash’s thrall, shackled in the stinking darkness of a bottomless oubliette, the creeping fingers of madness tugging at her mind.

Just as the panic began to truly settle in, a warm weight held snug in her arms shifted and reality washed over her with tingling clarity. Sloane buried her face in the head of curls nestled just below the curve of her throat as Hurley yawned into wakefulness.

“Good morning,” Hurley said, wiggling around in Sloane’s embrace until they were facing one another. 

“If you say so,” Sloane replied, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed any pretense of grumpiness.

They lay there, face to face, in silence for some time. The heat of the morning sun warmed the bark of their tree and they were happy to bask in the peace and the silence.

“We’re going to have visitors today,” Hurley said at last, a mischievous smile playing at her lips.

Sloane’s eyebrows arched. “Really? How do you know?”

“The trees were whispering last night,” Hurley replied. “You might have heard them too if you hadn’t been snoring so loudly.”

Sloane gasped in mock mortification, clutching her heart. Hurley laughed and lightly punched her shoulder, and when Sloane feigned a grimace, she reached up and pulled the taller woman’s face down for a kiss.

“Did they say who’s coming?” Sloane asked, stretching her stiff limbs.

“No,” Hurley said, “but I have a pretty good idea.”

No amount of cajoling would get Hurley to divulge who she thought was coming to visit. When they emerged from their tree, the city square was still and quiet, and as there were no races that day, they settled comfortably in the bend of the gnarled roots and listened to the sounds of Goldcliff coming to life. Hurley produced a mystery novel from the pocket of her tunic, and Sloane let her eyes drift closed as she listened to Hurley’s voice take on the cadence of each character from the gruff dragonborn detective to the mysterious elven client desperate to clear her name of the gruesome crime for which she had been accused.

Around noon, Hurley stopped reading and nudged Sloane with her elbow.

“They’re here,” she said, a smile spreading across her face.

Sloane peered across the green and watched as three small figures made their way through the growing crowd of elves, halflings, and humans that had gathered in the city square to enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. The smallest of the three was literally running rings around the other two while his companions supported a picnic basket between them. As they came closer, Sloane and Hurley rose to meet them, matching grins on their faces.

“Miss Sloane! Miss Hurley!”

Leaving Merle with the picnic basket, Mavis ran the rest of the way to the two women, glasses slightly askew. Before she had quite reached them, she stopped short and blushed self-consciously, hands clasped behind her back as she peered up into their faces with eager eyes and a cautious smile.

“Dad’s recruiting for his camp,” she explained, “and he said it would be all right if we came to visit.”

“Of course it’s all right,” Hurley exclaimed, gathering Mavis up in a tight hug. “You don’t need a reason to come see us.”

Sloane reached down and squeezed Mavis shoulder gently. “Absolutely. It’s lovely to see you, Mavis.”

Merle lumbered up to the trio with the small, dwarven boy in tow.

“No, no, don’t worry about me,” he groaned, dropping the picnic basket to the ground with an exaggerated grunt.

“Dad,” Mavis rolled her eyes. “It’s not _that_ heavy.”

“And who,” Hurley said, her eyes on the child currently executing a lopsided somersault in the grass a few feet away, “is this?”

The boy toppled over in front of them and jumped up to his feet.

“I’m Mookie,” he proclaimed, smiling wide enough to show off the gap where his two front teeth should have been. “Are you really trees??”

Hurley giggled and Sloane attempted to hide a snort of amusement as the little boy gazed up at them, eyes wide.

“Mookie! We talked about this,” Mavis said, glancing between the two women sheepishly.

“That’s quite all right,” Sloane said, kneeling in front of Mookie so that they were almost eye-to-eye. “We’re dryads, which is not quite the same thing.”

“My daddy teached me about dryads,” Mookie exclaimed, vibrating slightly. “Mavis said you came out of a tree on the bad day and saved her from those shadow beasties. I can climb trees _real_ good – you wanna see??”

Before they could respond, Mookie was off in a cloud of dust, barreling towards the cherry blossom tree in the center of the square. 

“Probably for the best,” Merle shrugged. “Let him tire himself out.”

“We brought a picnic,” Mavis said. “I read that dryads don’t really need to eat food, but Uncle Taako said that’s just because they’ve never had his cooking.”

“Well, your Uncle Taako _is_ very wise,” Hurley said, sending Merle into a fit of barely-concealed laughter. “Come on: I know just the place for a picnic.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the shade of the cherry blossom listening as Merle recounted stories of his young adventurers’ camp with Mavis chiming in occasionally to correct him when he began to tend towards hyperbole. Although Mavis had been correct that dryads didn’t technically need food to survive, Hurley and Sloane nibbled fruit slices and sipped herbal tea while the dwarves ate sandwiches which Mookie seemed intent on stuffing into his mouth whole. For dessert, Mavis produced a tin of homemade honeycomb candy and beamed as the adults exclaimed over its cleverness.

“Uncle Taako showed me how to make it,” Mavis said, her voice bright with pride. “He even taught me a spell for regulating temperature! The bubbles come from adding baking soda while the honey mixture is still hot, but you have to be careful not to overcook it.”

Everyone – Mookie in particular – declared the candy to be delicious and helped themselves to seconds (or, in Mookie’s case, fourths).

When the remnants of the picnic were packed away, they lounged against the tree trunk while Mookie ran across the green to chase a flock of pigeons. Hurley asked Mavis about school and in return told stories about the race track and the new battle wagon that they were building. Merle was quiet, his eyes occasionally flicking between the two dryads until he suddenly suggested that Mavis check on her brother who was, at that moment, stalking a rather large and disgruntled-looking pigeon. Mavis sighed as she went off to wrangle her brother and left the three adults to sit in increasingly-awkward silence.

At last, Merle cleared his throat.

“You should know it wasn’t just Mavis that wanted to come see you today,” he said, his voice gruff. He didn’t meet Hurley’s and Sloane’s eyes as he spoke, staring instead at a patch of grass at his feet that was becoming increasingly bare as he scuffed at it with the toe of his leather boot.

“I should have come sooner,” he said, “but I—I didn’t have the right words, you know? Because there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you two, and when Mavis mentioned wanting to visit, I knew I couldn’t put it off any more.”

“We’re glad you came,” Hurley said, and next to her Sloane nodded in agreement. “We didn’t get a chance to talk after the Day of Story and Song, and there’s something we’ve been meaning to say, too.”

Merle waited, his brow furrowed. Whatever he expected them to say, it wasn’t pleasant, and when Hurley reached across the picnic blanket to take his hands in hers, he was visibly shaken.

“We want to thank you, Merle,” Hurley said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “For everything. We know what you and Magnus and Taako did, what all of you did. But more importantly, we know that it was your sash that gave us this second chance, and we are _so grateful_.”

Merle gaped at them.

“If you know that I created the sash,” he said, his voice shaky, “how can you thank me? You almost died, Hurley, and Sloane – for the love of Pan, Sloane, you were nearly consumed by the damned thing!”

Sloane closed her eyes and breathed deeply before responding.

“Maybe so,” she said, “but it isn’t your fault that I fell to its thrall. I was foolish, Merle; I wanted the power that the sash promised me, and when it became too much, I was too proud to ask for help. I let it take me, and I almost killed Hurley in the process.”

“But you didn’t,” Hurley said, reaching out to lace her fingers through Sloane’s. Their eyes met, and Merle knew with certainty that this was an assurance that Hurley had spoken many times before. “The sash may have started it all, but it’s _because_ of the sash that we’re both alive. We heard your story: we know why you made it and what you were trying to do. So please don’t apologize, Merle. We’re safe now, together, and that’s because of you, too.”

Merle mumbled something indiscernible into his arm as he swiped furiously at the tears that were spilling down his face.

“Thank you,” he said at last, “for saving Mavis. She told me what you did, and when I think what could have happened if you hadn’t been there…”

Merle choked back a quiet sob as he looked out across the green where Mookie seemed to have roped Mavis into a reluctant game of tag that involved throwing handfuls of leaves in the air and then racing to avoid them as they fell.

“They’re great kids,” Sloane said.

“Best things in my life,” Merle admitted, a crooked grin breaking across his craggy face.

Mookie chose that moment to come tumbling across the picnic blanket, barreling into his father and tipping them both over in a cackling heap. Mavis sidled up behind Hurley and Sloane, shaking her head in disapproval.

“They’re incorrigible,” she said, but both women noticed the indulgent smile that accompanied the declaration as they both nodded their agreement.

The sun had begun to set before Merle declared it was time for them to leave. 

“We’ve got a busy day tomorrow, and I need you two at your best.”

“I’m not even tired, daddy,” Mookie exclaimed, but a jaw-cracking yawn belied the sentiment and he didn’t protest when Mavis took his hand.

“Come see us any time,” Hurley said, beaming at the three dwarves affectionately.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Merle warned, his eyes flashing merrily in the fading light.

Hurley and Sloane watched the little family walk back into the city hand-in-hand. As their figures faded in the distance, Hurley looked up at Sloane and squeezed her fingers a little harder than necessary.

“I meant it, you know,” Hurley said, pressing her body against Sloane’s side. Sloane didn’t ask what she meant, choosing rather to return the squeeze and then reaching down to brush a stray, pink curl from Hurley’s cheek.

“Home?” she asked at last.

“Home,” Hurley agreed, and together they strode across the square in the amber glow of a perfect dusk.


End file.
